falloutkinkmeme_backup | Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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The courier had decided that, rather than make the trip back down the mountain in sub zero temperatures, it would be easier to spend the night in one of Jacobstown's resort rooms. The Supermutants and Nightkin didn't seem to mind. One of the Nightkin had even taken an unhealthy shine to the courier, introducing herself as Lily and referring to him as "her sweet little Jimmy", which Arcade found hilarious and Boone found alarming.
The courier had suggested that they all retire to separate rooms and was met with no objections- the cramped and oft times claustrophobic living conditions of the Lucky 38 had taken their toll on everyone, and a small chance at privacy, even just for one night, was a rare gift not taken lightly. So it had been somewhat of a surprise to Arcade when he found himself being startled awake by an insistent knocking at his door.

Peeling back the dusty duvet and shivering as his bare feet meet the cold wooden ground, he opens the door to reveal a fully dressed and fully awake Boone, clutching a mysterious bundle of clothing to his chest.

"What... Craig... what are you doing?" Arcade yawns, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "You do realize the sun isn't even out yet?"

Boone answers his question with a command: "Put this on." He tosses Arcade a heavy grey coat, emblazoned with a patch featuring a two-headed bear. Regulation NCR branding.

Deciding not to question the enigmatic sniper, Arcade dutifully shrugs on the coat over his undershirt. The shoulders are just barely wide enough, but the coat itself is entirely too short on his taller frame. Boone holds out another, much smaller bundle of cloth. "And these." Gloves. Arcade smirks and thanks him, pulling them on over his hands and flexing his fingers experimentally. Boone was so ridiculous sometimes it nearly killed Arcade not to say anything, but he generally kept his mouth shut lest the adorable mother henning cease if called attention to.

Secretly, he kind of liked being fussed over in Boone's serious, scary-brooding-army-guy way.

Boone circles around Arcade after he dons both coat and gloves, sizing him up and then nodding approvingly. Arcade jokingly stands at attention, clasping his arms firmly to his sides. "I was not aware of inspection today, sir!" He quips in a faux-solider voice.

Boone pauses. He rises up on the tips of his feet, clasping his hands on either side of Arcade's face and pulling it down. "At ease, private" he growls, covering the smirking lips with his own.

Arcade moves forward into Boone's embrace, attempting to deepen the kiss, but is rebuffed with a firm hand in the center of his chest. Boone gently pushes him away. "Hang on. I came here for a reason, you know."

Arcade quirks an eyebrow. "Hmm, you don't say?" He leans down, seeking out Boone's mouth again, but his lips collide only with a smoothly shaven cheek turned forward at the last minute. He makes an agitated noise, sucking kisses down Boone's jaw and snaking his hands up under the other man's shirt, but the sniper extracts himself from Arcade's grabbing arms. "Yeah. I do say." He grabs Arcade's upper arm, steering him towards the door. "C'mon, follow me. You'll see."

"This better be worth it," Arcade warns as he is dragged along. "Because I was going let you top."

Boone pauses at his words, seemingly mulling them over for a moment before giving his head a sudden shake. "Shut up, Gannon," he replies, pulling his sunglasses from his pocket and jamming them on his face. "Just... trust me."

Arcade had to admit, even at night snow was still ethereally beautiful- somehow it managed to maintain its sparkling, other-worldly white color even in the blackness of dark.

Boone leads Arcade to a small clearing of snow just past the edge of town. Safely obscured by night, and trees, the clearing is privately hidden from any curious eyes that might be patrolling Jacobstown after hours. Snow blankets the area, lush and thick as a fluffy carpet, and the crystalline snowflakes glitter prettily in the moonlight. It's almost romantic, Arcade thinks to himself. That is, until Boone opens his mouth and announces: "I'm going to show you how to make a snow angel."

Arcade turns to Boone, looking at him incredulously. "A snow... what, now?"

Boone crunches through the untouched snow and Arcade follows close behind, carefully stepping in the imprints left by the sniper's boots to keep snow from leaking into the ankles of his shoes.
"Snow Angel," Boone repeats seriously, as if Arcade confusion stemmed from poor hearing, and not complete unfamiliarity with the term. "I figured, you've never seen snow, everyone should make at least one in their life." He turns around and looks at the doctor expectantly.

Arcade rubs at his neck, the wool gloves scratching against his skin. "Um... you go first?"

He can't see Boone's eyes through his opaquely tinted glasses, but he's sure that the other man is rolling them. "It's easy," Boone insists. "I'll help you. Just...lay down."

Arcade looks at him like he's crazy. "You want me to lay down. Right now. In the freezing, freezing snow." Boone nods and, maybe it's the cold getting to Arcade again, but he decides that fine, he will go along with this madness. "If I don't survive this, tell my wife I love her," he sighs dramatically, stretching out his arms like a legion crucifix and letting his body tip backward.

Arcade lets out a resounding "oomph!" as his back collides with the snow, cushioning his fall but barely. He feels himself sink several inches into the snowfall, and his pants are instantly soaked. "Oh, I think I get it now," he grouses as he involuntarily begins to shiver. "It's called a snow angel because it's so cold it kills me, right? I'm an angel now?"

Boone swings a leg around Arcade's prostrate body, kneeling down to rest solidly in the taller man's lap. "You're cute. Now. You need to wave your arms up and down, like this-" Boone stretches his arms out to his sides and flaps them up and down, and Arcade can't help the peel of laughter that tears from his throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite get that," he chuckles, "can you do it again?" Boone frowns, immediately dropping his arms and crossing them self-consciously across his chest. "Just do it," he replies sternly. So Arcade obeys, pushing his arms back and forth in the snow, cleaving out two identical holes at his sides. Boone actually smiles. "Good. Those are the wings. Now you have to do the bottom."

"The bottom?" Arcade questions, letting his now-soaking arms go slack. "Like a tail? Angels have tails?"

"Not a tail, it's like a... a dress thing. I guess. Hmm." Boone scratches his chin in thought and Arcade makes an indignant noise. "A dress? Why does my angel have to wear a dress? Can't he just be a boy angel?"

Arcade bites his lip in delight when he sees Boone's jaw muscle twitch. That only happens when he really gets to the sniper. "All angels wear dresses. Or something. I don't know. It's a god damn angel shape, Gannon, why is everything so hard with you?"

"Okay, okay," Arcade pacifies him. "So how do I make the bottom shape?"

Boone visibly calms. "Move your legs back and forth. Like...spread them, then close them again. Kind of how you did with your arms."

"Spread my legs, huh?" Arcade teases. "I see." He shifts his hips upwards into Boone, rolling their pelvises together as he spreads his legs wide, pushing snow out of the way. Boone inhales sharply, and Arcade can feel the tell-tale press of hardness through the other man's pants, digging into his own swelling member. Boone grinds down against Arcade, mouth falling open. "Now back together," he commands, and his voice his barely above a whisper.

Arcade obliges, moaning aloud as the action of closing his legs firmly slotted their hips together. Boone continues to rub down against Arcade, swiveling his hips in a slow, circular grind. Knees planted firmly on either side of the doctor, Boone leans forward and braces himself on his hands, which sink immediately into the surrounding snow.

Now that the sniper was within grabbing distance, Arcade reaches up and wraps his arms around Boone's neck, drawing him down for a deep, open mouthed kiss. Boone nearly whimpers in shock as the snow-soaked jacket arms press into the back of his bare neck but doesn't pull away, instead leaning his weight more fully on to Arcade's shivering body, covering it with his own.

"You're cold, huh," Boone purrs into the doctor's ear. "Let me warm you up." It's bad, so cheesy but also so ridiculously sexy that Arcade can't help but oblige, pressing his gloved hands tightly against the back of Boone's head as the sniper slinks his way down the Arcade's body. He fumbles with the doctor's slacks, opening the zipper but leaving them pulled up (for which Arcade was quite thankful, as the thought of his bare ass getting covered in snow was not appealing in the slightest).

Boone peels open the other man's pants, letting his belt fall to the side. Instead of cold fingers he uses his lips and tongue to gently ease Arcade's thickening member out of his pants and into his mouth and, ok, that's pretty hot. In both the metaphorical and literal sense, Arcade notes- the heat of Boone's mouth is nearly searing in contrast to the freezing winter breeze. Arcade shivers delightedly at each pass of Boone's tongue, his spit slicked erection entirely too sensitive in the cold. "If this is part of the whole snow angel thing," he pants, squirming under the ex-recon's ministrations. "Then I've REALLY been missing out."

Boone grumbles in response, and Arcade keens at the tingly vibrations. "Oh... god. Craig." He sighs, skin awash with a fresh wave of shivers that had nothing to do with the cold. "I'm not gonna last long. Not after that stunt you pulled in my room."

He feels, more than hears, a soft chuckle from Boone, and he raises himself up on bent elbows to question why, exactly, the sniper found Arcade's pain so funny, but oh. That was a mistake. A BIG mistake. Because Boone had taken off his glasses, tossing them somewhere aside into the blankets of snow, and the site of the other man between Arcade's legs, eyes closed blissfully as he swallowed Arcade's length fully down his throat- it was too much for the doctor to bear. With a final, desperate noise that was more of a whine than a moan, Arcade squeezed his eyes shut and rode out the crashing waves of his climax, pressing his hips sharply up into Boone's mouth. Boone hummed around his softening member, gently suckling through each spurt and pulse until it slipped, completely flaccid, from between his slackened lips. He pressed a soft kiss to the junction of Arcade's thigh and just stays that way for a moment, softly breathing, before clearing his throat and mumbling into the other man's skin: "Maybe you should put yourself away...my hands are pretty cold."

"You always know just what to say," Arcade mock-sighs. "You hopeless romantic, you." He reaches up a hand and tugs off a snow covered glove with his teeth, then uses the uncovered (and blissfully dry) hand to carefully tuck himself back into his pants, zipping up. Boone crawls his way back up Arcade's body, pressing a kiss thoughtfully to the corner of his mouth. Arcade was relieved. As much as he liked kissing Boone, he REALLY didn't like the taste of a post-blowjob makeout.

"Let's see how it turned out," Boone says, and he pulls himself to his feet, reaching a hand down to help pull Arcade up. They carefully maneuver themselves in the middle of Arcade's snow angel, mindful not to kick over the sides or destroy the carved out shape.

Boone pulls Arcade tightly against his chest, wrapping his arms around Arcade's hips and tucking his chin against Arcade's shoulder. Arcade marvels at the fact that even though he still has several inches on him, the sniper always manages to wrap himself completely around the doctor. It was... nice. Comforting. Though Arcade can feel the sniper's still obvious erection, poking ostentatiously against the curve of his bottom. He opens his mouth to make a lewd suggestion, perhaps allude to his earlier promises of bottoming for the ex-recon, but the words die on his tongue as he looks down and catches sight of his "snow angel".

"Oh...oh my god," Arcade wheezes, shaking with laughter. "Boone, my angel, it's... something tells me we messed it up."

Boone's eyebrows furrow and he peers around Arcade, looking down at the angel surrounding them. It looks like a standard snow angel: a head, two wings, and a triangular body... except on either side of the snow angel are the perfect imprints of the sniper's hands, dragging down in parallel trenches where Boone had slid down Arcade's body. Two matching imprints of knees and the tips of his boots painted out a very improper scene- an angel, thoroughly defiled.

"Does this count as sacrilege?" Arcade questions innocently through chuckles, and despite himself Boone laughs as well.

"Beats me," he replies, smearing snow around with his foot to conceal the incriminating imprints. "Oh well. I tried."

Arcade spun around in his arms, nuzzling into the sniper with a devious smile. "Yes," he affirmed. "You did. Now let's get back to my warm, dry room and I'll give you your reward."

Boone laughs, again, and Arcade is enamored with the way a fresh flurry of snow caused tiny flakes to cling to the other man's eyelashes.

Boone may not like it, but Arcade is pretty damn sure that he is starting to love snow.

Ah, this is perfect! Hot and sweet and a little bit silly boys, exactly why I ship them so hard. The image of their dirty snow angel is going to stay with me forever. You've made my night A!A!

So fluffy and sweet! This is just what I needed right now, thank you A!A <3

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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Nuclear Winter 2

Nuclear Winter 3

Nuclear Winter 4a

Nuclear Winter 4b (the end!) [corrected version]

Re: Nuclear Winter 4b (the end!) [corrected version] OP

Re: Nuclear Winter 4b (the end!) [corrected version]